


Tiny

by Marsalias



Series: Grandfather Clocks [3]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Clockwork taking care of Danny, Danny is just a little creature, Danny is smol, Fenton Crammer, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Lost Time, platonic Danny and Clockwork, shrinking characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsalias/pseuds/Marsalias
Summary: Just a day in the life of Danny Fenton: Fight ghosts, get hit by your parents' shrink ray, rapidly lose ghost powers, be unable to find shrink ray to reverse it, approach a mental breakdown...Get rescued by the ghostly Master of Time?
Series: Grandfather Clocks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706959
Comments: 39
Kudos: 392
Collections: Love dan





	1. Chapter 1

Danny hated the Fenton Crammer. He hated it not just because of what it did to him, but because it didn't make sense. He supposed that was rather hypocritical of him, considering that he was alive and dead at the same time, and routinely violated all widely accepted laws of physics, but, taking ghost physics into account, Danny wasn't impossible or incomprehensible. He was just weird, like those people you see on medical tv shows.

The Fenton Crammer, on the other hand... Well...

Danny could see it working on ghosts; shrinking them, that is. Over time, he had done a lot of weird stuff to his ghostly body himself. The tail, splitting himself in half, duplication, the list went on. He knew ghosts who could radically change their shape, their size, or both. He could understand, then, something that either compressed a ghost, forcing their ectoplasm closer together, which the name of the thing seemed to suggest, or something that somehow stripped away ectoplasm, forcing the ghost to take on a more manageable size.

In fact, based on the weapon's other effect, nullifying ghost powers, Danny would have suspected the later. He could definitely see his dad starting with the first concept, hence the name, realizing that something like that wouldn't actually make a ghost less dangerous, because they'd have the same amount of ectoplasm, and, therefore, the same amount of ectoenergy, and then changing his approach. If this had been the case, Danny wouldn't have been too upset about being shrunk. It didn't do anything to his mind, after all, nor, as far as he could tell, his core (cores being harder to affect than other ghostly objects for a number of reasons), and ectoplasm was psychoactive. Eventually, he would be able to absorb enough ectoplasm and ectoenergy to return to his normal size.

The thing was, it didn't just work on ghosts. Dash had been shrunk, too, and tests that Danny had run later had shown that it could shrink _anything._ That did not make sense. If the 'compression' hypothesis was correct, then, among other things, Dash wouldn't have been able to breathe. The alveoli in his lungs would have been the wrong size, compared to the molecules in the air. If the 'stripping' hypothesis was correct, well, it either shouldn't have worked on Dash at all, he hadn't nearly enough ectoplasm in his system, or, if the Crammer simply stripped _any_ material it came across, it should have vaporized him. Then there was Skulker, and his armor. Skulker's armor was made partially of ectoplasm, and it ran on ectoenergy. It should have lost power, too.

The way it affected Danny, continuing to drain him even long after he had been hit, slowly forcing him out of ghost form, was also counter-intuitive, especially considering that it didn't seem to affect Skulker in the same way. Logically, Danny should regain power over time. Unless, that is, his ghost form was spending energy keeping his human half alive despite his human half being compressed... But, considering that Dash had been fine, that didn't make sense.

Really, the only way that the Crammer could work was if it did totally different things to ghosts, humans, and half-ghosts, and something else yet again to inanimate objects. At the same time. With the same beam.

Then there was the fact that it could reverse what it did. Whatever it was that it did.

Of course, none of these thoughts were helping Danny get to the Fenton Crammer and return himself to his normal size. Or even find it. It appeared that, for once, Jack Fenton had put a weapon he was tinkering with away. Either that, or Maddie had. Or, and Danny was avoiding thinking this, he had taken it with him, into the lab.

Danny looked up, at the kitchen counter. He couldn't see what was on it, of course, but it was his last shot. Jazz had a rule about ectoweaponry and other inventions in the kitchen, so Danny hadn't thought to look here at first, but she was away on a college tour, and he had already checked the living room, the dining room, and the entryway, and, at this point, Danny was too tired to try the stairs.

It was really monstrously unfair. After being shrunk with Dash, Danny had gotten his human form into very good shape, and he had kept it there. He could even fight some of the weaker ghosts hand to hand without transforming. But he had spent the last few hours first getting back home, getting through the alley, past the fence, across the yard, up the steps and under the door, then climbing tables, and other furniture while searching for the Crammer, and staying out of sight, because he really didn't want to have to answer questions about how he had been shrunk. Before that, he had been fighting for much of the morning, and he had some fairly serious injuries that weren't healing at their normal, accelerated, rate.

Danny was exhausted, and the constant drain the Crammer somehow caused was only making it worse every second he spent glaring up at the counter. He sniffed, blinking tears out of his eyes. Feeling sorry for himself wasn't helping. This would be difficult, but it shouldn't be quite as much of a hassle as the coffee table. He could use one of the appliance power cords as a rope, and avoid the overhang of the counter's lip.

He had just started moving to put his tentative plan into action, when a shiver went down his spine, and a curl of mist slipped past his lips. Danny hid. He was under no illusions about his current ability to defend himself or others. It was nonexistent. Crying out wouldn't do anything, either. His voice was as small as he was. No one would hear him. Hiding was the best, and only, option.

He hiccuped, and another puff of mist left his mouth. This ghost, whoever it was, was powerful. Danny hoped it wasn't Vlad. He waited, listening. But as he did so, he rapidly became convinced that the ghost was familiar to him. In a good way. A friend, not an enemy. Danny hadn't quite worked out how to identify individual ectosignatures yet, but this one felt... soothing. Safe. Then he heard it. A ticking sound.

Slowly, cautiously, Danny emerged from his hiding place under the dishwasher. Clockwork was sitting on the kitchen floor, his ghostly tail curled around him, staff laid across the coils, watches around his wrists, glass-fronted pendulum clock ticking away in his chest.

"Hello, Daniel," said Clockwork, quietly. Danny jumped, and shrunk back. Danny liked Clockwork, he trusted Clockwork, but the size difference was off-putting, and Clockwork's voice sounded louder, deeper, than it should. (Danny suspected that this was because his eardrums were now much smaller, but he wasn't in the mood to contemplate that, at the moment.)

"Clockwork?" asked Danny, his heart hammering. (How must _his_ voice sound to Clockwork?)

"Yes," said Clockwork, his voice even softer. The ghost smiled softly. "Let's get you taken care of now, shall we?" He put one gloved hand on the floor, palm up.

Danny made a sound that could have been correctly interpreted as relief after a great deal of stress, and ran out, climbing into Clockwork's hand. He immediately felt better. Danny supposed that he was absorbing the excess ectoplasm and ectoenergy that Clockwork gave off with his ectosignature. It was nice of him to make it so easy for Danny to do that, to let him take them so freely. Then, as Clockwork floated upwards, he felt a sudden, sharp increase in the amount he was absorbing, and he looked up at Clockwork in surprise.

Without really knowing why, Danny began to tremble, and then he started to cry. "Th-Thank you," he said, sobbing, as Clockwork slowly drifted towards the basement door. "I'm s-sorry."

"It's alright," murmured Clockwork, quietly enough that it didn't hurt Danny's ears. "It's alright, Daniel." He began to stroke Danny gently, with one finger of his free hand. "You have nothing to be sorry about." The older ghost cloaked them both in invisibility, and phased them through the basement door. Then Danny felt the subtle shift in reality that told him that Clockwork had stopped time.

As they floated down the stairs, Danny's tears began to slow, Clockwork's assurances, ectosignature, and rhythmic tender contact, and the ticking of his watches and clock all serving to calm Danny.

But what waited for them at the bottom of the stairs made Danny anxious all over again. Jack had brought the Crammer downstairs, and he had dismantled it. But Clockwork could fix that, couldn't he? He could roll back time, return to when the Crammer had been intact.

Danny looked up at Clockwork hopefully. "Can you fix it?" he asked.

.

.

.

Usually, Clockwork let Daniel solve his own problems (not to mention many other peoples' problems). This was not because Clockwork did not want to help. He did. He wanted little more than to spirit Daniel away, wrap him in safety and love, and give him every good thing in the worlds. Clockwork deeply regretted that doing so was outside his ability, not only because of the Observants, but because Daniel himself would not tolerate such behavior for long, and because Daniel, and the universe at large, the _timeline,_ would be better off for it.

This did not mean that Clockwork was happy with the situation, not did it mean that Clockwork was prepared to let Daniel suffer unnecessarily. This particular situation was a prime example. Forcing Daniel to follow this scenario to the end would help no one. Yes, Daniel would have eventually determined that he needed to radically increase his intake of ectoplasm and ectoenergy in order to survive , and FentonWorks had several sources of both, but it would have taken time, the amount he would have had to consume would have been distressing, and the behavior his mixed instincts would have driven him to to prevent his starvation would have been frightening and confusing. Then, he would have had to persist until his father had repaired the Fenton Crammer.

No. There was no reason to let Daniel suffer through this. So, careful as always to avoid the attention of the Observants, Clockwork brought himself to FentonWorks. He would have preferred to arrive earlier, but a number of factors (the Observants, the movement of Daniel's parents around the house, and the movements of passers-by outside, and a particularly recalcitrant paradox) meant that this was the earliest that he could appear in the Fenton household. Normally, to make contact with Daniel, Clockwork would have simply stopped time and put a medallion around his neck, but Clockwork hadn't a medallion small enough, and he didn't want to frighten Daniel by suddenly appearing. The poor child was stressed enough as it was.

So Clockwork waited for an opening, a moment when both Jack and Madeline were away, outside of the kitchen, and then he made himself clearly visible, in the least aggressive position that he could manage.

He knew when Daniel made his appearance that he had only been waiting a few minutes, but, ironically, it felt like much longer. Eons, perhaps. Again, Clockwork simply wanted to pick him up, and hold him, embrace him, but he didn't want to scare him away. He had to let Daniel make the choice to come to him, or not, had to let Daniel be in control of at least that small portion of his life.

He was very pleased when Daniel came to him after only a small amount of fear. Yes, that was the most probable outcome, but there were a number of less satisfactory futures.

At once, Clockwork began to take measures to ensure that Daniel had enough energy, enough sustenance. It was a simple act, one that any ghostly parent did frequently. It was not, however, something that Daniel often encountered, and it upset him. Clockwork comforted him the best he was able, worried about what his reaction would be to the scene waiting for them downstairs.

It took Daniel only a second to make sense of the rather confusing mess of parts strewn over the table. Then he turned and blinked up at Clockwork, his eyes shiny with hope and recently shed tears. "Can you fix it?" he asked.

Clockwork smiled sadly. "Not as quickly as your father can, I'm afraid. Nor can I rewind time to before it was broken. You see, the weapon broke when it was fired at you. If I were to take you back to before that point, or bring that version of it to the here and now, I would create a paradox that involves more than just myself." He could also create a temporal copy of the Fenton Crammer, and that was a skill that he intended to teach Daniel, if only for its utility in healing, but then there would be two of the things. One was bad enough. The components Jack had used to create the item were unique, impossible to otherwise replicate, and difficult to destroy. Clockwork would not be responsible for adding to that problem.

"And that's against the rules," said Daniel.

"I'm afraid so," said Clockwork, apologetically.

Daniel gave him a shaky smile. "That's okay," he said. "It's not like we can do anything about that, right? So... Do I just... Wait for Dad to finish?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. "But I thought that I would see if you would like to join me in Long Now, instead of waiting here."

"Really?" asked Daniel. "Is- Is that okay? I won't get in your way, or anything?"

"Not at all," said Clockwork, giving Daniel a gentle smile.

"Okay," said Daniel. "If you're sure that it's okay with you."

Clockwork's smile broadened, and with a wave of his staff, he opened a portal to Long Now, and stepped through.

Daniel blinked. "You have a kitchen," he said, sounding surprised.

"Where did you think those cookies came from?" asked Clockwork, amused.

"Dunno," said Daniel, clinging to Clockwork's fingers, and yawning hugely.

"You must be tired," said Clockwork.

Daniel looked up at Clockwork, and blinked slowly. "Okay," he said. Then he slumped over, unconscious.

Clockwork froze as he berated himself for not keeping better track of possible futures. He hadn't meant to do that. What he said shouldn't have done that, really. Daniel must have been even more tired than Clockwork realized. Either that, or he was far more eager to please than the average child ghost. He sighed. Despite not needing to breathe, Clockwork found the human habit cathartic. He had hoped to give Daniel some food, and spend some time talking to him. No matter. Daniel needed his rest.

Clockwork had made up a small bed for Daniel (creating something like that was simple, compared to the task of miniaturizing one of his time medallions), and he moved to fetch it, cupping the now gently purring Daniel securely in his hands. Then Clockwork noticed his scar itching. He paused.

The scar was a physical reminder of the oath he had sworn to the Observants, an oath that made him their servant, and put his powers at their disposal. It tended to itch when they were using or manipulating those powers, and itched more when they were blocking his ability to see the paths of time.

It was probably nothing. This wasn't an unusual occurrence. Often, they blocked his vision just to show that they could. To show that they owned him. Normally, Clockwork would ignore it, unless they had blocked something that he had actively been looking at.

But Clockwork did not normally have Daniel with him. He was seized with an overwhelming desire to protect this child. _His_ child. If there was even the slightest chance of the Observants making an appearance, the little bed simply wasn't a safe enough place, not with the things the Observants had done, had tried to make _him_ do, to Daniel in the past.

Then Clockwork found himself inspired, apropos of nothing. Considering how he usually viewed the world, always seeing into potential futures, this was unusual. A new set of futures spooled away, branching off from the moment of the idea. None of them showed Clockwork that Observants would be visiting him in the near future, but those futures might just be the ones being blocked.

Clockwork quickly located the bed, it was still part of the plan, and carefully tucked Daniel into it, going so far as to wrap the child's arms around a miniature teddy bear. Then he opened the glass front of the clock set into his chest. It felt odd to do this. Clockwork had never quite gotten used to the timepieces set into his body, despite not recalling a time before they existed. No matter. He picked up the tiny bed and it's even smaller occupant, and placed them deep inside the cavity in his chest, well away from prying eyes. Then he closed the glass door.

Having done this, Clockwork felt both relieved and curiously satisfied. Daniel would be safe, now; even the Observants would not crudely violate the privacy of Clockwork's body. Daniel would be comfortable. He would have access to all the energy and ectoplasm he needed.

.

.

.

Warm was the wrong way to describe how Danny felt. Since the Accident, and especially since developing ice powers, 'warm' was not the term that sprang to Danny's mind to describe emotional contentment. 'Cozy' worked. 'Comfortable' was fine. 'Correct' sounded a little clinical, but was also a good descriptor. He felt _right._ He felt good. He felt safe. Like he was in a big family hug, and his parents had left their ghost weapons somewhere else.

He could tell that he was in a bed. He wasn't sure how he had gotten into bed. He certainly didn't remember going to bed. Sadly, that wasn't all too unusual for Danny.

He sat up slowly, noting that he was the right size for the bed. That was good. He was already short and slender for his age. Being half an inch tall was something else entirely. It was frightening, disorienting. Although... Being held by Clockwork hadn't been that bad.

Danny continued his bleary survey of his surroundings. It looked like he was still in Long Now. He was wearing blue footie pajamas with yellow stars on them. He wondered if his normal clothes were still shrunk, and if the pajamas had been put on him before or after he had returned to this size. Hopefully, his shoes had gone back to normal, otherwise he'd have to explain to his parents how he had lost another pair of shoes. He hugged the teddy bear closer to his chest, and hung the blanket around his shoulders like a cape. (These were nice things. He would have to do something nice for Clockwork. Clockwork was very nice to him. But what should he do?)

It was, he decided, time to find some food.

He got up from the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, and began to wander around. He was looking for either Clockwork or Clockwork's kitchen, but preferably Clockwork.

As Danny wandered, he once again began to idly consider his emotional state. Not in those words, of course. He was just thinking. Feeling. Contemplating. Often, maybe even normally, Danny felt on edge. Prickly. Defensive. Withdrawn and exposed, in equal measure. Even when he shouldn't have, even when he should have been safe and comfortable. But right now, right now he felt... Soft. Gentle. He wanted to touch things. He wanted to be touched, be held.

He really wanted to find Clockwork.

There was no sign of the older ghost, however, and Danny couldn't recognize anything. Although, he wasn't well-acquainted with Long Now to begin with. He rarely came here, and when he did, he rarely saw more than the rooms right off the main entryway. Normally, this was around when Danny would have started to get anxious. He was alone in a strange place, he had been away from Amity Park for an unknown period of time, and he was hungry. But he wasn't. The ticking sounds emanating from every direction had an almost soporific effect on him, and he didn't really _feel_ alone. Which, again, would normally have been cause for alarm, but felt comforting here.

But, eventually, Danny started to get tired of searching, and he really was getting hungry. His human half was, anyway. His ghost half was getting enough energy from his surroundings that he didn't really _need_ to eat. He just _wanted_ to, and he'd come to the conclusion that he always felt better when he fed both his halves some time ago.

So, softly, and a bit hesitantly, Danny called out, "Clockwork?"

"Good morning, Daniel," came the immediate response. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," said Danny, looking left and right for Clockwork. "Thank you." He looked up. "Thank you for getting me back to my normal size, too." Danny turned, looking behind him. "How did you..." He frowned, distracted from his question by Clockwork's non-appearance. "Where are you?" Ghosts could become invisible to one another, and did so frequently during fights, but it took more energy than 'simply' being invisible to humans, and was actually kind of rude, if he understood the jumbled explanation he'd gotten at the Christmas Truce party correctly. (There still weren't a lot of ghosts Danny could just talk to, and he was very often too busy with protecting Amity Park to go looking for them so they could explain obscure points of ghost etiquette to him. If they could spare the time themselves, and knew anything about etiquette in the first place. Although, come to think of it, Dora would probably be okay with him asking her, and she knew about etiquette, being a princess, and all... Maybe he should ask.)

"Well..." said Clockwork (Was it just Danny, or did he sound a little _sheepish?)._ "I'm afraid that you are not yet back to your normal size, Daniel."

"But... The bed?"

"It is to scale."

"Oh," said Danny, somewhat disappointed, but trying not to show it. "But... Where are you?"

"That requires some demonstration," said Clockwork.

"What do you mean? Are you alright?" asked Danny, worried.

"I'm fine, child," said Clockwork, sounding amused. "Just... Look to your right."

Danny followed the instruction. Some distance away, behind spinning gears and a swinging pendulum, was what looked like a transparent glass wall. Now Danny was amused. "Did you put me inside a clock?" he asked, walking to the wall.

"After a fashion," replied Clockwork. "Yes, you could say that."

The glass wall swung open as Danny ducked around the pendulum. He walked up to the edge of the floor, and looked out. "I still don't see... Oh." Danny found Clockwork's gloved hand on the door, and traced it up his arm to his shoulder, to his face, and came to the conclusion that he was standing inside Clockwork, which was... Weird. Danny found himself adjusting his view of the world yet again. Someday, he would be unsurprisable. He frowned. That wasn't a word. There _was_ a word for that. It reminded Danny of pancakes.

"I believe the word you're looking for is unflappable."

"Oh," said Danny. "Yes. Thank you. Why-?"

"I like to keep the people I care about close."

Danny found himself turning red. "Oh," he said, very intelligently.

Clockwork raised a hand, palm up, to the edge of the opening. "We should get you some food."

Gingerly, Danny stepped out. "Thank you," he mumbled, willing the heat to drain from his cheeks.

Moments later, Danny found himself set down on the counter, next to a tiny (but still large in comparison to him) bowl of soup, and a saltine cracker. He had almost forgotten that it was dinner time, not breakfast. It had only been around two or three when Clockwork had picked him up (literally) from home. Wow. He picked a salt crystal off the saltine and licked it.

"So," he said, "does this make you a grandfather clock?"

Clockwork smiled. "If you like."


	2. Chapter 2

Five hours ago Danny had been alone and scared. He had been hit with the Fenton Crammer, a shrink ray invented by his parents, and he had been exhausted, frustrated, and vulnerable. Now he was in Long Now with Clockwork, safe, well rested (a small miracle in itself), and finishing off a large (to him) bowl of soup.

He was actually surprised that he had finished it all, including the saltine. He did tend to eat a lot, he was a teenager, but usually he didn't eat so much all at once. He supposed that his currently small size might have something to do with it. He had a vague recollection that smaller animals ate more in comparison to their size.

He sighed at the empty bowl, and then looked up at Clockwork, who was watching him with a very indulgent expression on his face. Danny tipped his head to the side in confusion. He loved Clockwork, but he never knew what he was thinking.

Wait.

Back up that thought.

He loved Clockwork.

It must be true, otherwise it wouldn't have popped up in his brain so easily. It was weird to think about, though. He was a teenager, and a teenage boy at that. He didn't love people outside of his family. Well. He loved Sam and Tucker, but he had known them for so long that they were practically family, and Jazz sometimes said that he loved the people of Amity Park, or else he wouldn't put himself at risk for them so often, but this was different. He hadn't known Clockwork for even a year.

"We will be waiting for a while yet," said Clockwork, and Danny found himself immediately and thoroughly distracted from whatever he had been thinking about before. Clockwork had his full attention. "Would you like to accompany me while I work? I could use a fresh pair of eyes on some of my projects."

Danny nodded, happy and relieved to be helpful. That desire, that impulse, to do whatever Clockwork wanted, whatever he needed, was not as strong, not as painfully present in his thoughts, as it had been when Clockwork first revealed that Danny's family, friends, and teacher were safe, and that Dan had not killed them, but it was still there.

Clockwork offered his hand to Danny, and Danny climbed into it. It felt so nice and secure in Clockwork's hand. It was comfortable and safe. He did have to fight off the bizarre urge to nibble on the older ghost's fingers, but as a half-ghost Danny had become used to the occasional strange impulse.

"Daniel," said Clockwork, "would you mind attempting to change forms?"

"Okay," said Danny. He mentally reached inside himself, to his core. Unlike before, at home, when he had been forced into human form, his ghost form came to him easily. The rings flashed over him, faster than usual, and he was Phantom. Again, his mood improved. With his ghostly abilities available again, he needn't feel so vulnerable, and he could _feel_ Clockwork more easily like this.

He started to purr, and wound his ghostly tail around the base of Clockwork's ring finger. He wasn't really registering how he was acting, he was just happy, and happy to be happy.

Clockwork gently stroked him with one finger, just like he had the first time he had picked Danny up. "Thank you, Daniel," he said. "You should turn back, now. We need to conserve your energy."

Danny complied, noting that he did indeed feel more tired than he had been before, more drained than he should have been, based on how briefly he had been in ghost form.

Clockwork nodded, and smiled again. Still petting Danny, he drifted out of the kitchen.

Danny rapidly lost track of where they were with respect to the kitchen, but didn't really mind. Everything he saw here was so interesting, so different. He rarely got to look at any part of the Ghost Zone without being on edge, always ready for an attack. But he could trust Clockwork to keep him safe, so he could look with only curiosity on his mind.

Long Now was fascinating. Many of the walls were made entirely of gears. Some of the gears had colorful, striped candles resting on them, burning with fire of every shade. They passed by an elaborate orerry at one point, and Danny very badly wanted to stay and look, but he also wanted to see what Clockwork was doing, he wanted to _help_ , so he just watched it go by with wide eyes.

At last they came to a room full of time viewing screens. Clockwork's viewing screens were strange. The screen part of each device looked like nothing so much as giant magnifying lenses, but attached to each frame were gears, levers, strips of metal with strange symbols, grasping claws and things that looked like lasers. The images they contained seemed to rest both on and inside the lenses.

Clockwork brought them to a very large screen that was set horizontally to the ground. One of this screen's many attachments was a semi-circular table that curved around half the lens and supported a number of tools. Some of the tools were surprisingly mundane, hammers, pliers, scissors, tweezers and the like. Others, Danny couldn't name. There was one thing that looked like a magnifying lens, except that it contained the rainbow burst of a planetary nebula. There was a golden tube covered in designs that crawled along its surface. There was a mirror that-

Clockwork flipped the mirror over. "No need for that, I think." He gazed contemplatively at whatever was shown in the glass of the time screen. Danny wasn't at an angle where he could see it well, but it looked colorful. "I am afraid that I will need both hands," said Clockwork. "Would you mind watching from my shoulder?"

Danny shook his head, and Clockwork raised his hand so that Danny could clamber from it to his purple-clad shoulder. Danny steadied himself by gripping a fold of Clockwork's hood, and putting his feet on top of the gear-shaped clasp that held Clockwork's cloak on.

"Very good," said Clockwork. Then he gestured down at the time screen. "Now, tell me, what do you think?"

Danny followed Clockwork's gesture. Rather than a scene in the glass, there was an image af a sparkling, pulsing, multi-colored tangle of string, wire and webbing. He frowned.

"It's pretty," he proposed, finally. "But... It's wrong. There's something... I don't know. What is it?"

"It's a paradox," said Clockwork. "More precisely, it is a metaphorical representation of a paradox. An interface, if you would."

"So, it represents someone going through a portal and changing something?"

"It is a bit simpler than that," said Clockwork. "There are no people involved, at least not directly. The cause is a small object falling through a portal, traveling back several minutes, and affecting the initial event. This causes the event to become more complicated with each successive iteration." Clockwork indicated the points of interest with a gloved finger, using levers to zoom in and out, and to rotate the image. Danny nodded, making note of how one string was wound throughout the knot, others joining it, the first dragging them along, the pattern becoming more complex with each successive layer.

It wasn't the only string at the beginning, though. Other gossamer strands wove through those first few layers of the knot, though Danny quickly lost track of them.

"What about those?" he asked, pointing.

"Other, less central objects in the paradox. But, see here, their importance grows. Then, here, this is the point at which the paradox, hm, how should I say this? This is the point at which it becomes dangerous, at which it begins to threaten to tear, and damage the timeline."

Danny hummed, signaling his understanding.

"My question to you is, what would you do to unravel it?"

Danny examined the knot. It was quite the puzzle. However, "Couldn't you just cut the first string?"

"Would you like to try that?"

Danny bit his lip. "What would happen to the other, the, um, less central objects? Would one of them take the first one's place?"

"Very good," said Clockwork, reaching up to touch Danny again. Danny leaned into the contact. "It is something that happens quite often with these kinds of paradoxes. The smaller strands, in the absence of the larger one, will combine. Other items will be pulled in, and the paradox will be as strong as ever. The only change is that you have destroyed an object- and you can see why that would be an issue."

Danny nodded, and adjusted his position. "Can you turn it around?" he asked, stalling.

Clockwork pulled a lever, and the image began to slowly rotate around its center. Danny watched it, head tipped to one side, trying to divine a way to untangle the the dense ball of string.

"Couldn't you make it so that the portal doesn't form?"

"That is a possibility, however, due to the way that natural portals form, another would appear nearby shortly thereafter. Besides, portals are not solely under my jurisdiction."

"They aren't?"

"No. Remind me to introduce you to my sister, Nephthys."

"Nephthys?" repeated Danny, tasting the name. It was familiar, but he couldn't place how.

"Nephthys, Ancient Master of Death."

That's why it was familiar. "I think I might have met her," said Danny.

Clockwork paused. "You might have, at that."

"So, you have to get permission from her first? Or you need her to do it for you?"

"No. I could do it myself, and she would find no fault with me. I simply do not like stepping on her toes, so to speak. When I can find a way around disrupting portals, I do so. She does the same. Overall, it is better to let natural portals be."

"I don't get it," admitted Danny.

"If not released, pressures and energies build over time. Natural portals release that. Playing with them can create thin spots, weak points, and cause other problems. Then there are the interpersonal issues that such careless action might cause. You know as well as any how ghosts hold grudges. I could explain more, but it would be complex."

"Okay," said Danny. "What if you caught whatever it was when it went into the Ghost Zone the first time?"

"Ah," said Clockwork, picking up a pair of pliers. "Let's try that out, shall we?"

.

.

.

Clockwork worked through a total of three paradoxes with Danny. The session concluded with the rather frustrating (to Danny) revelation that the most complex of the objects they had dealt with was a microscopic piece of dust, and the greatest time frame only a fraction of a second. Paradoxes involving people and choices were, according to Clockwork, much more complex.

But this led Danny to another question. "Clockwork, isn't our fixing a paradox a paradox?"

"Yes. But not all paradoxes become dangerous," replied Clockwork as he tidied his work bench, liberally applying telekinesis.

Silence, and then, "Is Dan a paradox?"

"You could define him as such, yes. His entire timeline was a paradox."

"He's dangerous."

"Yes."

"Could you get rid of him like this?" asked Danny, pointing at the wavy, curling lines of the latest resolved paradox.

Clockwork paused. "No."

"Why?" Danny was becoming agitated. Thinking about Dan always made him agitated. He couldn't think about Dan without remembering.

"There are a number of reasons," said Clockwork. "But at this point, the largest is that it is no longer necessary to do so. He is safely imprisoned here in Long Now."

Danny froze, not even breathing. He had somehow managed to forget that Dan was here. Dan was here. In Long Now. In the thermos, yes, but how long would that hold up? He was _here._ Dan was here.

He was now breathing very rapidly, but clearly not enough oxygen was getting to his brain. His vision was going gray around the edges and he had bent inward, fists curled in the thick fabric of Clockwork's robe, pulling threads out of place with his tiny fingers, ready to lash out at a moment's notice. He could barely hear Clockwork continuing to speak over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears.

He felt something large touching him, but he ignore it, knowing that it was not Dan. If it had tried to move him, though, he would have fought, would have struggled.

He knew he was having a panic attack. He just couldn't stop it.

Without any warning that Danny could detect, an icy sensation, not unlike being dropped into a pool of frigid ectoplasm, overcame him. His heart rate dropped precipitously, and the world spun away from him as he rocked, dizzy, on his perch. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, confused.

He felt energized, but sleepy (like he had after that one Thanksgiving he and his family had spent with Tucker's family; there had been no undead turkeys that year). His breath was cold, and his ghost half was almost uncomfortably close to the surface, humming just below his skin. Overcharged was the only word he could find to describe how he was feeling. He was, at least, more aware of his surroundings than he had been.

A large hand steadied him as he tipped too far to one side. Danny stared at it with a look that might have been called wild if it wasn't so drowsy. It was like he had been sedated.

That thought had him building up a panic again.

"Daniel," said a deep, calm voice.

Danny turned towards it. Clockwork. His hood had been knocked down. Danny had never seen the older ghost with his hood down before. The panic ran out of him like water from a broken cup.

"Clockwork," he said his tone almost reverent, "you have _hair._ "

"As do you."

"But you have _so much._ "

Clockwork shifted from elderly to middle aged as Danny spoke.

" _So much,_ " repeated Danny. "Like three shampoo commercials worth. You always have your hood on, I thought that you were bald. Not that being bald is bad, but..." Danny trailed off, fascinated. "Do you always have so much hair?"

Clockwork's next shift took him to childhood, and his hair shrunk to only a couple of inches long.

"No," he said, shortly, the ghost of a smile playing around his lips.

Danny gasped, purposefully exaggerating his actions. "It's so fluffy."

Clockwork hummed, possibly in agreement, possibly in amusement. "It isn't that fluffy," said Clockwork. "Here, I think I want you in a more stable position before I start moving around."

Clockwork picked up a pliant and rather limp Danny, and set him on his hand. Danny tried to sit up, but quickly tipped over again. He giggled, and made himself comfortable in his prone position. Clockwork shifted back to his adult form. He'd been in adult form a lot more often, lately.

"It's so shiny."

"I'm a ghost, Daniel. All of me is shiny. I glow."

"But it's _more_ shiny," insisted Danny. He fell silent for a moment. "Clockwork?" he said in a much smaller voice. "What just happened?"

"You had a panic attack."

"Yes, but, after that."

"Much like in the human world, _trusted_ adults have a great deal of influence over children. That influence is most easily felt through auras. What you might deem ectosignature and ectoenergy."

"Oh," said Danny, understanding. "That felt weird, though."

"I might have used slightly more force than was strictly necessary," admitted Clockwork.

"That's okay," said Danny. He yawned, then sighed. "You really do have a lot of hair."

"So I've been told."

"Why do you hide it?"

"... I lost a bet," said Clockwork, finally.

"Why would they make a bet to make you cover your hair? It's so pretty."

"Not to cover it, to grow it out."

"Oh." Another moment passed. "Who could you lose a bet against?"

"I really do have to introduce you to Nephthys."


	3. Chapter 3

Clockwork had gotten out his smallest game boards. Their scale was still far larger than Danny's current one. It would take three of Danny laid end to end to reach from one side of the game board to the other. Well. That might be a slight exaggeration. Call it two and a half instead. Therefeore, the pieces were small enough and light enought that Danny could carry them around without undue strain, and large enough for Clockwork to still manipulate them easily, so long as he stayed in one of his younger, childlike, forms.

The name of the game was senet. Danny had never heard of it before, but Clockwork said that it was one of the oldest human board games, and that it was popular with the people of Aaru and Duat, also known as the Egyptians. The rules were fairly straightforward. The pieces were arranged beforehand. You rolled dice, well, _sticks,_ actually, to see how many spots you could move. You could bump back other players pieces. If you landed on this square, you had to go back to that one. You had to stop on that one square. On those other ones, you had to get exact numbers to move. The goal was to get all your pieces off the board.

It reminded Danny a little bit of Sorry, with a dash of Chutes and Ladders mixed in. Clockwork said that all three games were of the same type, and that the later two could probably trace their origins back to senet, with a bit of effort.

Danny was losing, currently. It was a little difficult to visualize the whole board when he was smaller than it. However, Danny was fairly certain that Clockwork was going easy on him, so it probably all evened out in the end.

"Here," said Clockwork pinching the sticks between his thumb and forefinger, and holding them out to Danny, "it is your turn."

Danny gathered them up in his arms like a bundle of kindling (or small baton-shaped ghost weapons, he had a lot more experience with those than with kindling) and then dropped them on the ground. "Five!" he exclaimed, bouncing slightly. Five was highest number you could roll. Now the question was, how could he use that good fortune?

But before he could do so, the atmosphere of the room changed. Danny tensed, crouching low to the table. Something was wrong. "Clockwork?" he asked, hesitantly.

" _Observants,_ " hissed the older ghost, spitting the name like a curse., his face and form aging.

Danny felt himself pale. The Observants did not like him. Actually, it was more like they loathed him. He wasn't sure why, at this point. He had fixed the Dan problem.

"Where should I hide?" asked Danny, because there really wasn't any question about whether or not he _would_ hide. He had no desire to interact with the Observants.

"Here," said Clockwork, laying his hand next to Danny. With the other, he swept up the game. Danny clambered up onto Clockwork's hand, whereupon Clockwork picked Danny up opened the door of his clock, and tucked Danny deep inside, far from sight.

This was... Okay, this wasn't entirely unexpected, but Danny still hadn't quite wrapped his head around being here, being in Clockwork, the first time. He wasn't in the part with the pendulum anymore. There were gears everywhere around him, and he was sitting on a large, slowly rotating gear. Danny couldn't even see how Clockwork had put him here, which would have disturbed him somewhat if he hadn't phased his own hand through his body on multiple occasions.

But then, the reason for Clockwork's haste became apparent.

" _Unuili_ _!"_

That, though muffled, was an Observant's voice. Assuming that Clockwork had only noticed them when they first arrived at his door, they had found their way to Clockwork's kitchen awfully quickly. This, for reasons that Danny wasn't quite able to articulate, struck Danny as incredibly rude. You weren't supposed to be learning the ins and outs of someone's lair when they didn't invite you, didn't even want you there. It was... invasive. Yes, that was a good word for it.

Danny swallowed a growl. Just because he was currently size challenged did not mean that he should act like a chihuahua. Right now, he should be staying quiet, so the Observants didn't notice him, and still, so that he didn't accidentally hurt Clockwork. Not that he thought that he could hurt Clockwork by mistake. Clockwork (probably) wouldn't have put Danny inside himself if he thought that Danny could hurt him.

Danny should also probably try to listen to what was going on. There were two Observants, and they were both speaking a ghost language that Danny couldn't identify. There were a lot of those. Still, even without knowing the language, he should still be able to learn something by how things were being said.

Right now, the Observants were angry and demanding, but calm, self-assured, and organized. Clockwork was... Well, the Observants hadn't given him a chance to speak, yet. He was anxious, though. Danny wasn't entirely certain how he knew that, but felt that it was in the quality of the ticking of Clockwork's clock.

Which, Danny realized as he caught his mind wandering and his eyes half-closed, still had a soporific effect on Danny. It was like his heart wanted to beat in time with the clock's slow rhythm. Danny shook himself all over. It wasn't the time to be sleeping. The Observants were still out there, no matter how nice, welcoming, and safe it felt in here.

Clockwork was finally given the room to respond, and his voice was dry and cool, sarcastic and biting. Danny didn't know how Clickwork did it. He wasn't ever able to keep that calm when, say, Vlad was talking dow to him. Then again, Vlad didn't have as much power over Danny as the Observants had over Clockwork.

Also, compared to the Observants' voices, Clockwork's was very loud. Almost painfully so. That made sense. Danny was probably really close to Clockwork's vocal cords right now. Or whatever it was that Clockwork used to make sounds.

Then Danny felt Clockwork moving. The Observants were probably making him do something. Danny felt a renewed surge of aggression toward the Observants. Why were they so mean? It was possible that they had found a real problem, but that didn't give them the right to be rude about it.

Danny was distracted from this, however, when the gear he was sitting on stopped and began to spin backwards, and everything began to glow blue-gray. The marbled metal of the gears seemed to scintillate and sparkle. The air tasted sharp and clean, but also soft, like salt and raspberries. Clockwork was using his powers. Danny would have held on to something, but there wasn't really anything to hold on to, so, instead, Danny laid down on the gear, trying to brace himself for whatever might be happening that way.

There was movement. Quite a bit of movement, actually, in a number of directions. Some of it was from the gear. Most of it seemed to be from whatever Clockwork was doing out there. The currents of the air kept changing.

Then Danny felt the shiver of a portal, the ambient ectoplasm levels began to drop, and Danny started to hear the mutter of human voices. French. From the sound of things, they were in a shop of some kind. Clockwork was doing something in the human world, then? He listened to what was happening. The words were muffled, but frantic. It seemed like someone had gotten their order misplaced, or dropped.

This went on for a few minutes, but then the words all ground to a halt,along with the gear. After a few minutes, sound started up again. At first, everything sounded like a repeat, like Clockwork had just looped time, but then the expected argument never occurred. The person got their packet and everyone continued on their merry way.

Then they went back through a portal, back into the Ghost Zone.

Almost immediately, the Observants verbally jumped on Clockwork. They were so _demanding._ Danny bit his lower lip. His Obsessions were being rubbed the wrong way with this.

"See for yourselves," snapped Clockwork, in English. "While you're at it, you can see yourselves out."

Clockwork then sharply propelled himself away. Danny heard the _bang_ of a door being slammed, and a few seconds later Clockwork stopped. Then Clockwork sighed so deeply that Danny felt it with his whole body.

Danny tried to hum to Clockwork reassuringly, but he was really too nervous for it to work well. He felt Clockwork sigh again.

"I'm fine," said Clockwork, his voice much quieter and softer than it had been. "I am sorry you had to deal with that, Daniel. That must have been quite frightening."

"I'm okay," said Danny. "You're here," he continued, sleepily. Now that the threat of the Observants was gone, he was drifting off again. He should really consider sitting back up.

"That helps?" asked Clockwork. There was a touch of humor in his tone.

"Mm," said Danny, glad that Clockwork was feeling better. "Love you," he mumbled, curling into a slightly more comfortable position. He shouldn't fall asleep here. Clockwork would want to take him back out. But it was just so nice, and soft, and safe, and he was just going to close his eyes for a minute, so he could hear the clock better...


	4. Chapter 4

"Has anyone noticed that I'm gone yet?" asked Daniel. He was looking up at Clockwork with a hang dog expression. He had grown in the past few hours, doubling his height. Doubling an inch, however, gave you only two inches.

"You sister has," said Clockwork. "Your parents, however..." He smiled, a little sadly, at Daniel, and flicked his fingers, two small time portals appearing.

Daniel peered into them, curious. One showed his father tinkering with the Fenton Crammer. The other showed his mother, camped out in a tree, binoculars pressed to her face.

"I didn't know that Mom was going to do the ghost stake out thing," said Daniel. "At least Dad's working on the Crammer, right?"

"Yes," said Clockwork.

Daniel sighed, whole body sagging. Clockwork watched him with some concern. It was normal, under these circumstances, for Daniel to be sleeping and eating a lot. It was his body's way of trying to balance itself, of trying to regain lost mass, a reaction only partially alleviated by Clockwork bringing him into the Ghost Zone. It was still somewhat disturbing to Clockwork, and he could, at this point, only imagine how Daniel felt about it.

"Would you like some ice cream?" asked Clockwork, knowing the offer would bolster Daniel's spirits. Pun intended. There was something about cold core ghosts and frozen deserts. Most likely the temperature, but still.

Daniel looked up, first wide-eyed, then more narrowly, as if gauging whether or not Clockwork was serious. "Yes, please," he said.

Clockwork went to his freezer, aware that Daniel was avidly watching his every move. He opened it, removed a carton of chocolate brownie mint ice cream and produced a spoon from thin air, causing Daniel to squeak in mixed surprise and glee.

By the time Clockwork turned around, however, Daniel's face was bright red, and he had withdrawn into himself. Clockwork had predicted this response, another side effect of Daniel current shrunken state. He had already seriously debated with himself how to handle this particular mood swing.

Ignore, confront, comfort... These were all options, and none of them had a greatly differing apparent result, but Clockwork didn't care about appearances in this situation. He wanted Daniel to be happy. Unfortunately, for this short moment, appearances were all he had to gauge success by. Clockwork had to wonder how other parents could handle this kind of thing without foresight when he was only barely coping.

Ignore, Clockwork had decided, was definitely the wrong choice. It was what Daniel's natural parents would do, what they had done repeatedly. While Clockwork would not call the Fentons evil people, quite the opposite, really, and they were not the worst parents he had the displeasure of watching, they also were not the best. Even if it was only partial, their neglect had contributed to both Daniel's death and current situation.

No, ignoring Daniel's reaction was not the right choice. But being too blatant, too direct, when addressing it wouldn't be good either. Most creatures, Clockwork had learned, did not like to be confronted over things they had hoped to hide.

Clockwork placed the ice cream and the spoon on the counter, making sure to make a sound. Daniel was used to hearing the people near him breathe, used to the sounds of life. Clockwork didn't want to startle him with sudden closeness.

Gently but firmly, Clockwork began to stroke Daniel. As expected, Daniel leaned into the touch. This was fine, Clockwork hoped to say, this was normal. There was nothing wrong with Daniel's reactions.

"Ice cream," reminded Danny after a minute.

Clockwork smiled, opened the carton, and removed a single spoonful, setting the spoon on the counter next to an excited Daniel.

"Thank you," said Daniel, eyeing the relatively enormous amount of ice cream with something akin to reverence. Clockwork set a doll sized spoon on the counter in between Daniel and the ice cream before Daniel tried to eat it without (appropriately-sized) utensils. Daniel's eyes widened even more (Perhaps his eyes were growing faster than the rest of his body?). "Where are you getting all those spoons from?" he asked. "Do you have them up your sleeve?"

"That's a secret," teased Clockwork. "Eat your ice cream."

.

.

.

In retrospect, Danny should have known better than to eat all that ice cream. For one, he was now so full he was bloated, something both rare and uncomfortable. For another he was incredibly sticky. Horribly sticky. Disgustingly sticky. And he smelled like warm ice cream.

He flopped down on the counter in despair. He was such a mess.

"I think I'm too small for my emotions right now," he said.

"An apt description," said Clockwork. "That is very nearly what is occurring."

Danny groaned, not in the mood for a lesson. "I'm sticky," he complained to the counter.

"Would you like a bath?" asked Clockwork.

Danny rolled over. "Yes," he said. "Why do you have a bath?"

"Sometimes I get sticky, too," said Clockwork, moving to pick Danny up.

"No," said Danny. "I'll make you sticky."

"As I said, that happens sometimes. I can always wash my gloves."

"Okay," said Danny after a moment of thought.

.

.

.

Clockwork's bathroom (this one, anyway, Danny didn't doubt that he had more) was lavish. Huge, modern, and done in shades of purple and green. There was a shower, a tub, a hot tub, fluffy towels, large sinks. There was also a very tiny, Danny-sized, bathtub set on the tiled counter between the sinks. Danny was surprised, even though he shouldn't have been. Clockwork had had that tiny bed ready to go, after all.

"Thank you," he whispered, a little in awe. Even if Danny had been able to see the future, he would never be able to plan like this.

"It's nothing, Daniel," said Clockwork, putting him on the counter, then drifting backwards. "I will give you your privacy."

"Okay," said Danny, a little uncertainly. He wasn't sure how he felt being left alone in what felt like a very large, very unfamiliar place. On the other hand asking Clockwork to stay while he was _taking a bath..._ Yeah. No. Not something that was going to happen. Ever. That would be just way too weird.

He turned on the water, and watched, fascinated, as it dripped into the bathtub. The physics of it were a bit odd at this scale. The water came out drip by drop, filling the tub with rippling, jiggling splashes. Danny could clearly see the skin formed by surface tension. It was weird. When the tub was as full as Danny wanted, the water bulged upwards, curving.

Belatedly, he realized that he had to strip before he could get into the tub. He removed his clothes, hurrying so that the water's temperature wouldn't change much. He grimaced at the disorderly pile he left on the... the counter, not the floor, he reminded himself. Clockwork was giving him so much help, even giving him a new set of clothes, and Danny wasn't even cleaning up after himself properly.

Well, he'd do it after he came out.

He was surprised at how hard he had to push down on the water to get into it. It wasn't _difficult_ to break the surface, but it wasn't as easy as it usually was. He had to put his weight on his foot to penetrate the skin. There was definitely resistance.

He wondered if he might be able to mimic a water skipper if circumstances were slightly different.

Wary of the surface tension, and not knowing how difficult it was to break from below, Danny kept his head above water as he cleaned himself. The sliver of soap he used actually lessened the surface tension by quite a bit. He supposed that soap was a surfactant, but experiencing it at this scale was something else.

When he got out of the tub, he started drying quickly. Between the air temperature and how little water there actually was, evaporation got him half-dry even before he rolled around of one of Clockwork's very soft, very fluffy towels. Then he got dressed and folded up his old clothes (in retrospect, they were not as sticky as he had thought).

He sat down on the towel.

"I am coming in now," came Clockwork's voice from just outside the room.

"Okay," called Danny.

.

.

.

"I'm clean now," said Danny, happily curled in Clockwork's hands. He thought that he might have grown a couple more inches since before his bath. That thought made him happy, too. He really wanted to go home and see for himself that everything and everyone was okay.

Still, he knew that Clockwork wouldn't let anything too bad happen while he was away. Or, at least, the older ghost would already be trying to ease him into the idea that something bad could happen, rather than assuring him that everything would be fine. It would probably be rude, at this point, to ask Clockwork when he could go home. Again.

And for some reason, Clockwork seemed to enjoy having Danny around. That was nice. Besides his parents, whom Danny tended to avoid for other reasons, most adults didn't.

"Would you like to play a game?" asked Clockwork, suddenly. "Not Senet. Perhaps a simpler, or more modern one? One we can complete without fearing interruption."

"Yes," said Danny. "Um, not cards. They wouldn't fit in my hands."

"Hm. No. You are quite correct."

"Not something with a big board," continued Danny. "Maybe... Yahtzee?"


End file.
